


Exposition in Three Acts

by shirogiku



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Crack and Character Study, Gen, Long John Silver - Freeform, M/M, POV Idelle, Post-Season/Series 03, Propaganda Wars, SHAMELESS CRACK ALERT, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 17:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7396978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shirogiku/pseuds/shirogiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Idelle wants to know something new about Silver. Billy stages a whole fucking play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exposition in Three Acts

* * *

 

Privately, Idelle considers herself a smart girl. Maybe not the smartest on the island, or even the little bit crafty, but crafty people tend to have crafty problems and also those special ways of being foolish, and she wants nothing to do with that. She is just smart enough to live and learn and see another day; wars come and go and come again, and if a man can get it up half as many times in the same night, it’s already an English miracle.

 

That being said, so, _so_ much has been happening around here lately, and still more _not_ happening or waiting to happen that suddenly, turning a serious planning session into a regular bit of boozing ‘em up didn't seem like such a terrible idea about an hour ago.

 

Valuable things that she has learnt so far: Do not get into drinking contests with tall people - it leads to _your_ debauchery, not theirs. Hell, if the ship loses a mast, they could probably rig Billy up as a spare.

 

Things that she has failed to learn so far: anything new about John Fucking Silver.

 

“‘Long John Silver’,” she repeats to herself. It’s been going round and round in circles. A cupful back - she is using a fancy one with roses on it, look at her being a lady - it was the funniest thing in the world. Now it’s once again plain bewildering. “John Doesn’t-Like-Tits Silver, more like it.”

 

“Just because someone doesn’t want to buy a thing from you doesn’t mean he doesn't like it.”

 

“Uh-huh.” She snorts at Bones’s sour tone. “He was so goddamn _happy_... about being spared the real Blackbeard, I'm guessing. Well, the joke’s on him.”

 

Billy can’t possibly argue with that.

 

In Idelle’s experience, men who don't get distracted by sex are the ones to watch closely. The unholy trinity - Flint, Silver and Bones - is all the proof that she could possibly need. Ben-Bunn, she isn’t so sure about yet - Billy keeps guarding his new friend’s virtue like a gelded harem Turk.

 

Billy toasts at her - drinking straight from the bottle, now that’s what they call rubbing it in - and winks like he knows something that she’ll never figure out in a dozen years.

 

“What?” she demands. At least he likes rum. If he had been a Quaker, she would have thought twice about helping him.

 

“I don’t know about tits-” he says at length, enjoying the suspense he is creating.

 

“-truer words-”

 

“-but sex, I wouldn’t write off so quickly.”

 

“So he’s a molly, after all? Like Muldoon, God rest him?”

 

Shit, now Billy will sail off to the Brooding Island, and that’ll be it.

 

Instead, he lets it roll off him like water off a duck’s back, managing a semi-convincing grin. Like he is feeling _inspired_ again, which, as she has personally discovered, is one hell of an uh-oh cruise.

 

“Let me break it down for you.” He springs to his feet like hope eternal. “In three acts.”

 

Ben’s eyes follow him around the room like he hung the moon, which is Ben’s usual state, drink or no drink.

 

Bones clears his throat and screws up his big, deceptively honest face like the privy has been a harsh mistress (Jack is great at those).

 

“My name is Captain Flint.” Billy sweeps his surroundings with a kingly glare. “You stole my schedule, prepare to die!”

 

“Oooh, are you doing a play? All on your own?”

 

Ben sort of coughs. That’s right, _someone_ here should be suffering from second-hand embarrassment, and it damn well isn’t going to be Idelle.

 

Billy hushes them before rearranging his features into a hopeful-but-scared-shitless smile, which comes more naturally to him. “Funny you should say that, Captain!” He beams at the mantelpiece. “Because I just want to be friends! And also the gold, but friendship is the real treasure that we’ll find along the way.”

 

“Huh. That explains why Flint never killed Jack.”

 

“It was a close shave,” Billy admits. He seems to have mostly got over it. Mostly.

 

The rest of the first act is more of the same, until Billy realises that his play could do with another actor. He enlists the ever-willing Ben, writing down his lines for him.

 

“Just so we’re clear,” Idelle interrupts, “is Death going to be in this? Because I’m not kissing either of you while you’re being Silver and Flint.” A girl has to have her standards.

 

Billy-as-Flint elects to ignore her. Ben’s eyes dart down to his lines. “The Spanish gold isn’t where it was supposed to be, and you’re not even a captain no more, but let me save you from drowning anyway!”

 

“Ben, _no_.” Billy looms over his shoulder and shows him how it should be read, with more feeling. “Try again, like this.”

 

Ben tries again, sounding like the drowning man in the relationship.

 

“How about a black wig?” Idelle suggests. “And he could sort of hop on one leg for a bit.” She is starting to have fun with this. “Also, bash in an onion? We could draw a tiny pair of spectacles on it, too, for accuracy.”

 

She continues booing them, though. On principle.

 

“Act Three,” Billy announces, pushing a very confused Ben away. “We are in the Doldrums.” He pauses. “No, fuck the Doldrums, that’s too depressing.” His partner exhales noisily in relief. “We are on the Maroon Island, with the actual Maroons, and while everyone else is planning an escape, I will sacrifice myself for the crew like the good captain I never was.”

 

Idelle raises her eyebrows. “Billy, I hate to break it to you, but _you have_ a _problem_.”

 

“No, you won’t!” Ben protests hotly, punching Billy’s arm. “I won’t let you!”

 

“What _am_ I watching here?” she wonders. “Their love story, or yours?”

 

Billy scrambles away from Ben like Flint himself has appeared in the doorway. “Um.”

 

“ _Men_ ,” she sighs. “Anyway, I’m not convinced. Just because a pair who doesn’t like tits is constantly being pushed together by circumstances beyond their control doesn’t mean they’re fucking.” Billy looks outraged by the criticism of his amateur production. “On the other hand, if they _do_ keep eyefucking like you and young Benvolio here, I _could_ see some potential.”

 

“'Benvolio'? Really?”

 

“Billy?” Ben prompts in the ensuing silence. “Maybe if we added a kiss at the end…?”

 

Well, so long as Baby Blue Eyes is happy.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you Buffy nerds, this is shamelessly inspired by that Cordy and Wesley scene in _Fredless_.


End file.
